Monkeys and Motrin
by House Calls
Summary: House meets some . . . interesting folks from a paper company in Scranton, PA. Crossover with The Office.
1. Chapter 1

**Monkeys and Motrin**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own _House _or _The Office_. I'm just borrowing a few people for awhile. Was originally posted in _The Office _section, but after further thought, I decided it was better situated over here. :-)

**Chapter One**

"In all actuality," House thumped his cane on the ground for emphasis, "clinic duty is Dante's previously hidden tenth level of hell."

Cuddy paused, looking over her shoulder at him as the doors exiting the clinic swished open. "Great – then you won't be complaining about how cold it is. Try not to sweat all over the patients." She gave him a look somewhere between a smile and a grimace before stepping through the doorway and turning in the direction of her office. The hem of her black knit dress flounced mockingly at House as he ran his free hand over his face. A silent expletive was cut short by someone in the waiting area.

"Oh, she's good," commented a male voice.

"Mmhmm," agreed a soft-spoken feminine one. "I wonder if she gives lessons 'cause then I would totally be able to kick your sorry butt."

"Funny, you didn't seem to think there was anything sorry about it --" The man's voice dropped to an indistinguishable murmur before House heard the woman softly exclaim "Jim!" before smacking him on (oh please) his arm. They laughed together quietly.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

"Okay!" House turned around sharply, the rubber tip of his cane squeaking in protest at the sudden movement. These people had to be moved out of here before they infected the whole clinic with their nauseating cheer. Though if he did indeed hurl from the clichéd sweetness of it all, it could get him out of clinic duty . . .

House shook his head, popping a couple of Vicodin as he located the saccharine young couple. Pretty easy, given the camera crew surrounding them. They certainly didn't look famous, what with her plain Jane looks and his rumpled shirt and tie. No rings, so not newlyweds. Hmm, holding hands, fingers interlocked. Newly dating. Judging by the snippet of their conversation, probably newly . . . yeah, and the camera was now focused on him. Crap.

Mustering something close to an affable smile (and probably closer to a grimace), House held out his free hand in the direction of the front desk, motioning for a file. One was promptly smacked into his hand and House felt the sting of the resulting paper cut on his palm. He really did need hazard pay.

"Exam room two, please --" he flipped open the folder, scanning the information on the questionnaire. "Mr. Halpert." Tucking the folder under his right arm House headed to the exam room.

"There's someone in there." House half-turned in the direction of the front desk, his gaze locking with Nurse Brenda.

"Are they dying? Dead? Bleeding out? About to lose a limb? Contagious?"

"You're the doctor, you figure it out."

"You're the nurse always whining about not getting any respect; surely you don't want me to trample all over your specialized skill set by inferring you're incapable of taking a not-so-subtle hint to move the patient." Nurse Brenda pressed her lips into a thin, hard line, silently letting House know what she thought before motioning for a young woman clad in light blue scrubs to look after the room exchange.

"Gee, thanks," House said with all fake sincerity he could muster. Turning back in the direction of the couple, he took note of the man's pasty complexion and the woman's concerned but teasing expression as they stood to follow him.

Ten minutes later and House was finally allowed to begin examining his patient. He almost told Mr. Halpert he could thank the camera crew for his imminent death as it was now too late to help him, but everything was being recorded and he wasn't eager to return to the courthouse or a jail cell anytime soon. He settled on a snarky comment about the back of his head being his best side before turning his attention to the patient. Who was now puking on the sound guy's shoes. Nice.

"Sorry," mumbled Puking Guy, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"You should have known better." The girlfriend cast a quick glance in House's direction as if for affirmation. He became engrossed in the file he was still holding.

"Pam --"

"Just because Dwight made that stupid comment didn't mean you had to --"

"But --"

"That was really stupid, Jim. Now you owe Charlie a new pair of shoes." House watched her look apologetically at the sound guy before he saw the Puking Guy wincing slightly.

House pushed his stool back slightly. "You're not going to hurl again, are you? Because I'm pretty sure you can't afford to replace my shoes." He glanced over at the sound guy, who was stoically looking straight ahead while, judging by his reddening face, not breathing. "Breathe through your mouth, you moron," House griped. The sound man exhaled as the cameraman choked back a guffaw.

"Look, doc – I'm fine." As if to prove his point Joe (Jim?) pushed himself off the exam table and into a standing position. "I just ate some bad jerky and I'll be fine in a bit." He placed a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder, meeting her gaze. "Really."

"Great, then my work here is done!" The plain redhead looked at House, her mouth slightly agape. "Make sure he gets plenty of fluids – Gatorade would be good – and shove some soda crackers into him." She nodded her head at this, satisfied. Maybe she could give lessons to Cuddy on learning how to lay off.

House tossed the patient's folder in the direction of the counter before looking directly at the camera. "Monkeys and Motrin – it's all you really need." And with that House exited the exam room.

"Weird," he heard the couple say in unison, the door closing on their simultaneous exclamation of "Jinx!" before they began laughing.

House leaned against the front desk with a sigh. "Got any more escapees from the nut house?" A smirking Nurse Brenda slapped another file into his outstretched hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Nope -- still no ownership. Did tweak this chapter a bit, though.

**Chapter Two**

_If Volger and Tritter had somehow managed to have a child, this is what it would look like. _

House shuddered slightly at the thought, feigning a chill (sort of) after the look cast his way by the blonde ice queen accompanying the Volger/Tritter spawn. Leaning his cane against the edge of the counter House pushed off on the stool with his left foot.

"So what's the problem?" he asked Spawn as the stool rolled to a stop. House flipped open the folder, unseeingly scanning it before snapping it shut. He grimaced as the silence stretched on and was about to give a clear verbal indication as to his level of annoyance when the man leaned forward, vomiting. Wincing, House waited for the slimy sound of partially digested food to hit his sneakers. Instead he heard the sound of rustling plastic and a few quietly murmured words as the now-thawing Ice Queen handed Spawn a tissue before setting the garbage can back on the floor.

"The Schrutes have a superior immune system," the man said, straightening his back, beads of sweat dotting his upper lip. "We never, _ever_ get sick."

"Really?" House said. "Hmm. Well I don't need to be here then – not with _General Hospital _starting in ten minutes, anyway." He pushed himself back to the counter, standing as he grabbed his cane. "Have fun with the fake vomit gag, then."

"Dwight, tell him," hissed the blonde.

"But monkey --"

"Not here."

"I'm sorry, but," the man lowered his voice a degree, "it's _in_ the file. Fact: he read the file. Fact: he asked me what the problem was. Fact: He's illiterate. I don't want an illiterate," Spawn looked over at House, "hobo prescribing medication to me. Though it would explain the handwriting . . ."

"Fact," House smirked when the couple looked at him, startled out of their conversation, "consuming poorly prepared deer jerky – even if it's extra lean – can lead to food poisoning. Fact: I only look like a homeless person so as to wow you all the more with my amazing intellect. Oh, and one more fact: You irritate me greatly. Both of you. So I'm going to leave you with the capable nursing staff and be on my way."

House ignored the duo's attempts to engage him in further conversation. He ignored the camera crew who had been filming them through the window. He ignored Nurse Brenda as she held out another file to him.

_General Hospital_ began in eight minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Still owe nothing but the idea and the storyline. :-P

**Chapter Three**

House paused at the door of the obstetrics staff room. It had been at least a month since House had taken one of his "breaks" in there so it should be a safe hideaway. Plus the chairs in the surgical ward weren't the most comfortable and their coffee sucked. He paused at the door, looking through the rectangular window for anyone who would give him a hard time about using 'their break room'. Whiners. But all he saw was a dark-haired man with a big nose and no ID badge. Hmm, could be a husband waiting for his wife or something. People were mixing up the staff areas and patient waiting areas all the time. At least that's what House once told Cuddy. The man didn't even glance up at House when he plopped into the chair beside him, his attention focused on the TV screen in front of them. Which was fine with House as it was already tuned to _General Hospital_. The only noise for the next fifteen minutes came from the actors on-screen.

One of the soap doctors had just made a dramatic save of a patient in surgery (which was horribly unrealistic as a general practitioner would never be performing open-heart surgery – idiots) when the dark-haired man let out something between a sigh and a groan. "Ma-a-an, that was close." House silently hoped that would be the end of it. For thirty seconds it was. "Bet people respect _him_ and his team-building ideas." The man sighed again, as did House. Of all the staff rooms of all the hospitals in Princeton . . . "I bet people respect you. You're a doctor _and _you have a disability. Talk about your one-two punch."

It was a step up from an illiterate hobo. "Yeah," House muttered. "It has nothing to do with my intellect or my dashing good looks." He kept his gaze focused on the TV screen – now hawking a Viagra knock-off – hoping the man would just shut up.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." House closed his eyes, exhaling slowing through his nose. "I mean, does anyone really understand guys like us? Seriously – I'm talking man-o à man-o here." The man glanced over his shoulder as the door to the break room swished open. Now he closed his eyes, sighing slowly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Crap."

House's thoughts exactly. What was with all the cameras today? Tritter wasn't back on his case, was he, sending all these people in to try to catch him doing something?

"Guys, c'mon," he man was whining. "Can't you just --"

"Michael," said the guy operating the boom mike, "you know the deal. Plus it's time for your talking head."

"I think you got enough _footage_ for today."

"Look, Michael --"

"Just shut it, okay? Just shut. It. You've done enough to harm my friends, my _family_ for one day. Idiots," he added under his breath.

House affected indifference, keeping an eye on the television and an ear on the conversation.

"Michael, the camera's rolling. And the mike is on."

"You think I didn't know that? I _know _much editing do you guys do anyway to make _me_ look the fool." House and the camera crew exchanged dubious glances. "Hey," Michael continued, "I know how to use Window Media Player and post on You Tube too, you know." He muttered something completely unintelligible under his breath as stood. "Now I'll never know if Melinda is really Bob's uncle or his aunt."

"Aunt," House offered. "No Adam's apple."

"Really? Wow." Michael sounded truly awestruck. "You truly are a gentleman and a scholar."

House rubbed his forehead. "Thanks." Though not really. He didn't fully exhale he heard the door close and he had counted to one hundred. He was definitely in the tenth level of hell, a fact that was confirmed when Cuddy stormed in a few minutes later, threatening to lock him in the clinic until the end of the day. He followed her out into the hallway, almost resigned to his fate when he caught sight of the camera crew setting up at the end of the hallway.

Bingo.

"Hey," he said off-handedly, "do they have _permission_ to be here?"

Cuddy stormed away from him and toward her fifteen minutes of fame as a grinning House ducked back into the staff room to watch the remainder of _General Hospital_.


End file.
